


(Not Quite) a Baking Fiasco-coa

by sophiegaladheon



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Baking, Fluff, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, minor profanity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-02-04 08:50:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18601147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiegaladheon/pseuds/sophiegaladheon
Summary: When a box of chocolate chip cookies arrives at Kent’s front door, he can’t say he’s exactly surprised.  However, one bite of the contents of this particular package tells him that these cookies are definitely not from Eric Bittle.  Now the question becomes: why is his boyfriend sending him inedible cookies?





	(Not Quite) a Baking Fiasco-coa

**Author's Note:**

> First time posting in the fandom! I was working on some short little ficlets to get used to writing the characters and thought this one turned out good enough to share. Un-beta'd, all errors are mine and mine alone. 
> 
> I apologize for the terrible pun in the title, which I found by googling baking puns.

When a box of chocolate chip cookies arrives at Kent’s front door, he can’t say he’s exactly surprised. Since patching his relationship up with Jack, the other man’s boyfriend has been weirdly friendly, and since Eric Bittle’s primary form of communication seems to be baked goods, Kent has been the recipient of more of them in the last few months than he ever expected. He isn’t sure if it’s supposed to be a friendly gesture or not—while the pies are probably the most delicious things Kent has ever eaten, Bittle’s efforts aren’t exactly on his diet plan and he’s been getting dark looks from the team nutritionist ever since he started bringing them in to share the love.

One bite of the contents of this particular package tells him that these cookies are definitely not from Eric Bittle, not unless he decided to change his strategy and poison Kent instead. Kent spits out the bite of what was supposed to be a delicious chocolate chip cookie into his sink and examines the remainder in his hand.

It looks like a chocolate chip cookie, maybe a little lumpier than your typical toll house and a little bit pale. The bottom is almost black, which helps explain the taste and the tooth-breaking hardness. He spits again into the sink. There is definitely too much salt in there, too.

Kent checks the return address on the package. It’s definitely from Providence but it’s not from Bittle, so there goes the poisoning-the-ex theory. Now the question becomes: why is his boyfriend sending him inedible cookies?

He checks in the box and finds a post-it note. It says ‘Enjoy!' and has a little heart on it. It’s cute, very Alexei, but Kent’s still confused. He checks the time, works out the time difference, and calls his boyfriend.

“Kenny! You call! It is good to hear your voice. How is your day?” 

Alexei’s voice booms over the phone as soon as Kent says hello and even in his confusion it makes him smile. He always seems so genuinely happy to hear from Kent, and it makes a little something flutter in his stomach every time.

“I’m good, it’s good to hear you too. Um, Alexei, did you send me cookies?”

“Yes, I make them myself. Do you like them? Little B always makes many delicious things for Zimmboni, is very romantic. I think I try and make some for you. Little B says is a good basic recipe, and classic.”

“Um, did you try any before you sent them?”

“No, recipe says makes two dozen but only make ten. So, I sent them all to you. Maybe next time I make some just for myself. Or you make for me?”

Halfway through and Kent can’t help but laugh at the situation. Of all the faults to find in his wonderful, perfect boyfriend, the fact that he can’t bake was not what he was expecting.

“Why, Kenny, what’s wrong? Is not good?” Alexei seems genuinely concerned, enough to get Kent to stop laughing and answer the question.

“Alexei, they’re burned. Also, I think you might have used salt instead of sugar. This is genuinely the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me and I might get these framed to hang on my wall, but I’m certainly not going to eat them.”

“Oh, no.” Alexei’s dismayed moan sets Kent off laughing again. He can’t help it. Alexei is so kind and caring and competent. Usually, Kent is the dysfunctional one in their relationship. Even when he messes up, as here, Alexei manages to be sweet and concerned and romantic about it. How did Kent ever manage to get such a wonderful man to date him, he’ll never know. 

“Don’t worry,” Kent is hastily reassured, “I’ll try again. Taste them before I send next time. Maybe ask B to help me. Baking is harder than it looks, you know.”

“Of course, of course.” As if Kent could do any better, he once burned a pot of water trying to cook macaroni back in juniors and set the fire alarm off in his billet house at two am. Not his finest moment, but fairly indicative of his culinary aptitude. Jack had chirped him for that for weeks. The thought sobers him.

“You know you don’t _have_ to bake for me just because it’s something Bittle does,” he says. Yes, it’s super sweet and romantic, and he’s maybe a little jealous when he sees the Instagram and Twitter evidence of Bittle’s culinary caretaking, but it’s not like he feels like he’s missing anything with Alexei.

Alexei is an amazing boyfriend (not that he’s had much experience, but he’ll stand by the assertion.) He’s funny and caring and generous and Kent’s only complaint is that he lives on the opposite end of the country and he doesn’t get to see him often enough. Kent doesn’t want him thinking he has to be something different than just himself to keep him happy.

“I mean, it’s really nice of you, and if you want to bake things I’m not going to complain. Unless it all tastes like this and you actually want me to eat it,” he says, trying for reassuring and missing by a mile. “Just, no pressure, yeah?”

It’s quiet over the phone for a moment, just long enough for the insecurity gremlins to start up telling Kent he messed everything up (again), but then Alexei says, with a smile in his voice, “I want to cook for you, Kenny. I want you to have nice things and smile more. Even if you are smiling because of chirping my bad cookies.”

Kent shifts his weight until he’s leaning against his kitchen counter in an attempt to avoid melting on the floor in a puddle of romantically compromised goo. Damn, that sappy shit gets him right in the chest.

“Okay,” he says softly, “as long as you want to.” He clears his throat. “And as long as you figure out how to make something edible. I could probably use these things to practice my slapshot.” He knocks one of the inedible cookies on the granite countertop so the noise reverberates through the phone.

“Okay, okay, I promise I take lessons.”

“And,” Kent hesitates, and Alexei makes an encouraging sound. “And, maybe next time you’re here you can show me how? Um, so I can learn, too?”

He can almost hear Alexei’s wide grin over the phone. “Of course, _kotenok_.


End file.
